McLoafer
by Belker
Summary: McGee is squeaky new on Gibbs team and has yet to prove himself in the field. TonyTim friendship.


_Hey, guys. I just love TonyTim-friendship stories, but this is my first attempt at this. It's set quite early in the show. It's unbetaed. Hope you'll enjoy._

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, Gus Bricker would make a reappearance on the show, oh yes!_

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**McLoafer**

Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS Special Agent - no, wait…Very Special Agent… heck, make it Agent Extraordinaire, had made it his full-time job to taunt and mock probationary agent Timothy McGee.

He would gladly do it off duty too, because it was just so much fun and McGee needed it, whether he realized it or not. The Probie was just too soft to make it on his own out in the real world of crime and bad guys. And Tony liked the guy way too much to let him crash and burn. Not that he would admit that out loud to anyone. Ever.

He had a reputation to uphold.

As said Special Agent now lay on the ground, panting with suppressed pain, he regretted having teased the Probie about his shoes. Really nice designer loafers they were, with a thin leather sole, and oh, so utterly useless out in the woods; even Gibbs had taken the time to point that out. Every puddle the Probie had stepped in and every slipped step elicited jokes and comments, probably making McGee wish he'd never volunteered to join Gibbs' team in the first place.

Still, those loafers had proven to be the key to their survival on this rainy afternoon.

* * *

"You were supposed to watch them, Probie!" Tony shouted and sprinted to the car, as the two suspected kidnappers drove off, dirt spraying from the tires of their truck.

"Sorry, Tony, I didn't see…" McGee stuttered.

Tony was annoyed, and angry with himself for letting the perps out of his sight, and he didn't really blame the green probie. He didn't.

"C'mon, McGee! In the car!" Even so, it was his prerogative as senior agent to _sound_ angry if he wanted to.

He took off even before Agent Still-wet-behind-the-ears had closed the door, provoking a little yelp of surprise. Tony didn't even try to hide his smirk and raced down the sorry excuse for a road, in hot pursuit of the beat-up truck. He loved this.

"Sh…shouldn't we wait for Gibbs and Kate?" McGee asked nervously from the passenger seat.

Tony gave him a disdainful look. "They're fifteen minutes off, Probie! Do you _want_ the Lieutenant's kidnappers to get away?"

"No, of course not, Tony, but…"

"Call, Gibbs! I see their truck!" Tony's heart fell. "This is not good." He eyed the elementary school before them.

The kidnappers' car was an old one, and Tony concluded by the skid marks and oil on the cracked tarmac, that it had broken down, leaving the driver with little option but to abandon ship.

He caught a glimpse of them in the pouring rain, before they disappeared through the doors of the main entrance.

"This is unbelievable", he hissed venomously, before jumping out of the car. "At least it's after school hours." He checked his gun. "Put on your vest, Probie."

McGee nodded and looked pale. "Shouldn't we wait for back up?"

Tony's jaw clenched. "No time." And with a flick of his eyes, he drew McGee's attention to the few cars still parked outside. "There're kids in there."

McGee nodded solemnly and drew his gun to show that he was ready.

"Stay behind me, Probie. And keep your head down!"

Tony's much-hated Gore-Tex-boots were bringing him safely over the wet gravel and up the front door steps, way ahead of McGee. He awaited the Probie to come wheezing up the steps, before pushing the doors open, sliding in, gun at the ready. He cursed as he caught a glimpse of the two men rushing down the hallway, shotguns aimed carelessly at them, before a shot rang out. It shattered the glass doors behind them, making McGee duck and Tony curse. He heard screaming down the hall. _Damn! _Kids meant a distraction and a liability.

As he saw the kidnappers bolt up the stairs, he let out a mental sigh of relief. The screaming had come from a room on this floor.

"Probie! Get those kids out of here!" he roared and started running down the hallway.

His hard rubber soled hiking boots immediately slipped on the polished linoleum floor, sending him ungracefully crashing into the wall. Cursing violently he found his balance and headed off again. He screeched around the corner, grabbed hold of the railing and started up the stairs.

He reached the top floor and cautiously peered down this new corridor. The sudden blast from a shotgun had him diving for cover, but he had caught a glimpse of the barrel from a room farther down the corridor and he returned fire and pushed forward again. They really pissed him off.

He slammed on the brakes to make a dive into an adjacent room, but just slid right on, hit the doorpost and crashed to the floor. He heard the shot a fraction before pain flared breathtakingly in his left thigh.

Tony had survived many a dire situation solely because of his reflexes, and they now helped him aim and squeeze the trigger of his gun, giving his adversary a ticket to eternity. Panting painfully he cursed his slippery outdoor shoes and the fact that bulletproof vests didn't come in knee length models.

"Tony!" The Probie proved that he wasn't so much a probie anymore by pushing himself up the steps to point his gun at Tony's assailant. "Are you okay?"

"He's down the hall." He drew hissing deep breaths to ward off the dark spots, to try to overcome the pain, to try not to pass out. That would probably be a bad idea, with one attempted murderer still at large. _Don't pass out, don't pass out… _

"Tony!" Probie was right beside him now and he hadn't even noticed him coming up. Tim was panting but not in a panicky way, and had his gun drawn and pointed to where bad guy number two had disappeared. "You okay?"

_Don't throw up, don't throw up_… He had changed his mantra to one that suited him better at the moment.

"Ju…just peachy, Probie", he managed, feeling the blood leave his face. God, the pain was unbearable. It roared like fire through his entire leg, and left him squirming on his back. He drew a shuddering breath. "You?"

"Just fine, Tony", Tim said, still scanning the corridor ahead, not daring to spare Tony a glance. "Kids are out. You think you can make it to that room?"

Probably not. Just the thinking of moving had him trembling. _Don't pass out, don't pass out_… "Yeah, I think so." He shifted his weight a little and the cold fire burnt him badly. He felt warm, sticky blood soak his pant leg and wondered how long it would take him to bleed out. The sliding to safety behind the door took all his energy as he knew it would and he slumped on his uninjured side, forehead to the floor, gasping for air, soaking in cold sweat and shaking violently. McGee stumbled in behind him and slammed the door shut. Tony heard his voice hardly shake at all as he spoke into his cell.

"Hey, boss, it's me. Tony's been shot and we still have one shooter on the run. No, I can't. Tony's been shot", Tim repeated.

"'M fine", he mumbled. _Don't pass out, don't pass out_… But when McGee gently pushed him onto his back and ripped the fabric of his jeans to press down with both of his hands on the wound, Tony did pass out.

* * *

"Tony. Tony, come on, wake up. Wake up, Tony." The insistent voice buzzing in his ears annoyed him to no end.

"Probie?" he grunted.

"Yeah, Tony, it's me." Did Tim sound relieved? He pried his eyes open and immediately wished he hadn't. The light bored into his head and he winced violently, grunting as this jarred his leg. "Easy, okay?" Yeah, definitely relieved. "How're you…"

"Gibbs here yet?" he interrupted.

"N…no."

"How long was I out?"

"Um, only a couple of minutes."

"We have a kidnapper on the lose, Probie. Help me sit up." Probie complied, easing him up to a sitting position. It hurt worse than he'd hoped, but at least he didn't pass out again.

"I put a pressure bandage on it. Tell me if you find it too tight", Tim said, obviously still worried.

"Up", he grunted, signaling that he needed support. With joint effort, they managed to get him to his feet. Or _foot_, since he couldn't even dip the toe of his injured leg in support. At least the bleeding had stopped. He swayed for a moment as he felt the full effect of the blood-loss and shock, leaving him utterly lightheaded. Tim had a firm grip on his elbow and grabbed hold of the back of his jacket as well.

"You don't look too good, Tony."

"Yeah, well, can't always be on top." He was dangerously close to retching again, and closed his eyes to ward off the feeling. When he opened them again, they met concerned grey ones. "What?!" he demanded.

"Just, um…you kinda zoned out, there. A little bit."

"Just trying to keep the pizza slice I had for lunch. That thing was six bucks!" he tried to ward off Tim's concern. "Let's go."

"Go? Go where, Tony?"

"After the bastard who kidnapped our Lieutenant!" he said, incredulous at the stupid question.

"Um, don't you think we should wait for Gibbs?"

"The boss is at least ten minutes off!"

"Yeah, so? You can barely stand and the thug is probably long gone anyway!"

"Where would he go? Just…give me a hand here", he panted and then added for good measure: "Probie…"

"No, Tony. You're in no condition to be out there, and I won't let you get injured worse than you already are."

Tony was amused. Tim was standing up to him. Not a day too soon…

Of course Tim did as he was told in the end. He was, after all, still a probie.

* * *

"Hey!" Tony called out to the empty hallway. He was limping badly and shuffled noisily down the corridor. He didn't care anymore. "You have nowhere to go! Local Sheriff's outside, taking aim at anything that moves." That was a lie, but oh, how he wished it to be true. "Now, come out!" He was panting heavily, leaning on the wall, blood roaring in his ears. _Hurry up, scumbag,_ he pleaded. For all the bravado he had flaunted in front of Tim, he wasn't sure he could remain upright for long.

When his demand was met, he had a moment of doubt that this would prove to be a good plan.

The terrified eyes of the little boy held firmly in Scumbag's grasp, nearly made Tony lose his nerve.

"Let the boy go", he hissed and raised his Sig.

"Drop the gun and face the floor", the cold reply came without hesitation.

"How far d'you…d'you think you'll be goin'?" Tony asked, resisting the urge to fall to the ground. He backed up slowly.

"Far enough." Scumbag slowly followed him down the hall.

"Alright", he panted, lowering his gun. "Just…let the boy go."

"Drop the gun."

Tony complied, letting go of his weapon. It dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

"Kick it over here", came the demand.

"I…can't", Tony murmured and limped a step back, making it very clear that he only had one functional leg. "Your partner saw to that."

Looking very satisfied, the kidnapper let go of the terrified boy, shoving him back a few steps. Walking cautiously towards the gun he hissed something about what he would do to he boy if Tony made a wrong move. He needn't worry; the Agent Extraordinaire was sliding painfully to the floor, after seeing the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Walking silently from a room further down the hall and sneaking up behind the thug in those soft leather loafers, the Probie cocked his gun.

"Drop your weapon, dirt bag. Federal agent."

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The fact that McGee had used the word 'dirt bag' hadn't gone unnoticed, but Tony did think the Probie had earned the right to use it, just this once. He was, after all the hero of the day. As he was hoisted to his feet by Gibbs, closing his eyes against the black spots, he gave a heartfelt declaration.

"You know, Boss, I definitely think the Probie's ready for field work. He can watch my back any day."

**The End**

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_Too cheesy? ;)  
I have a few more ideas for Tony and the Probie. May be posted as new chapters or new stories. I haven't decided yet._


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